


I Cannot Live, I Cannot Die

by eburneano



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, I don't know which tags to use, Time Travel, before? after? during? you decide, fictionalised effects of nuclear radition, fictionalised nuclear radition in general, idk when this is set vis a vis series 12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eburneano/pseuds/eburneano
Summary: The Doctor, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham are headed to Abaraline, planet of mud. Why? To participate in the 67th Pan-Galactic Mud Pie Making Competition, of course. But an old friend makes an unexpected appearance, and the Doctor and her fam are thrust into an investigation spanning planets and centuries.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	I Cannot Live, I Cannot Die

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Metallica song 'One'.
> 
> Without spoiling anything, I just wanted to say: I researched some real scientific concepts for this, but they weren't going to drive the plot the way I wanted them to so I made a whole bunch of stuff up. Creative license. This is sci-fi, it's fine.

“What?” said Graham, the gurgling of the boiling kettle filled the small flat, making it difficult to hear. He, Ryan, and the Doctor were seated around Yaz’s kitchen table, while Yaz was busy in the kitchen. Tea at Yaz’s: a weekly tradition of theirs. Of course, it was hard to be sure when running around in a time machine if it really was a weekly tradition. It’s the thought that counts. 

The Doctor raised her voice, “I said ‘mud pies’!”

“There’s a competition for making mud pies?” asked Ryan, “how hard can it be?”

“It can get very elaborate! In 4605 the winning pie was fourteen feet tall.”

“Aw, we’ve got no chance then,” said Yaz, lifting the kettle off the heating element to pour water into their cups.

“Well it’s not about winning, is it? It’ll be fun regardless. Thank you,” said the Doctor, taking her mug from Yaz.

“Ta,” said Ryan.

“Spot o’ milk, Yaz?” asked Graham.

“Oh, sorry!” She turned back to the kitchen to fetch the milk, “well I’m keen, it’s a new experience.”

“That’s very true,” said Ryan, “okay, I’m in.”

The Doctor grinned, “Graham?”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, we can go to this space mud pie competition thing,” he said, taking a sip from his mug, “hopefully it’s not dangerous, eh?”

“Dangerous? Never!” said the Doctor.

“So where is it then?” asked Yaz.

“It’s been on Abaraline every year since the competition’s inception, because there aren’t any other true mud planets.”

“Oh, as in, the planet is entirely mud?” asked Yaz.

“Yeah.”

“Not gonna lie, that’s not very appealing,” said Ryan.

“Oh, come on!” said the Doctor, “you might need a change of clothes, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Ryan grumbled under his breath, but they agreed to head off once they’d finished their tea.

* * *

It was a short walk from Yaz’s flat to the spot where the Doctor had parked the TARDIS, but it was long enough to warrant a change of attire. It wasn’t quite Winter yet, but it was still somewhat cold and it was very windy, so they had all rugged up to try and keep out the chill: The Doctor wearing her usual long, grey coat, and the others in their own coats and scarves. In addition, Graham had donned a green knitted hat with a fluffy pom-pom and a matching pair of woollen mittens.

“When you get as old as I am, you’ll feel the cold in your bones too,” he had said, after being gently teased by Ryan and Yaz. 

The Doctor dawdled as they walked, her hands in her pockets and her head in the clouds, her mind full of possibilities and impossibilities. Approaching the spot where she’d left the TARDIS, the Doctor looked up and smiled, her heart warming as she laid eyes on her beautiful, blue box. As she was a few paces behind the others, she tossed her key to Graham, and he unlocked the door before opening it and stepping through. He stopped abruptly, Ryan, who had been following him closely, ran into his back.

“What is it Graham? Ryan?” called Yaz.

The Doctor hurried to catch up, her and Yaz reaching the TARDIS at the same time.

“We seem to have had a break in,” said Graham, moving aside to allow the Doctor access to her ship.

Peering around Graham’s shoulder, the Doctor and Yaz saw what Graham and Ryan already had: a woman leaning against the TARDIS console, cool as a cucumber, gun strapped to her thigh, and a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, no, she has a key,” said the Doctor, passing Graham and entering the control room proper.

“What? If you’re giving out keys why don’t we have any?”

The Doctor ignored his question; she moved closer to the stranger, her face falling into an unreadable expression. For once, she was silent, simply searching for something in the woman’s eyes.

“What? Surprised to see me?” asked the stranger, smiling, she flicked a blonde curl out of her eyes.

“Yeah,” whispered the Doctor.

The stranger’s expression softened. Sensing no danger, Yaz closed the TARDIS doors behind her.

“Where are you up to then?” asked the Doctor, “have you done Darillium?”

“Sweetie, I’ve done the Library.”

“Impossible.”

“Is it?” The stranger shifted her stance, turning towards the Doctor, “I was uploaded, it stands to reason I could be downloaded.”

“Into what body? You died, River.”

River gave the Doctor a long, hard stare, “I don’t know how it happened; I don’t know who’s responsible. That’s why I’m here.”

“Do you have a lead?”

Inexplicably, from a pocket that hadn’t been there before, River produced a scrap of stained paper, handing it to the Doctor. It was quiet in the TARDIS for a moment as the Doctor studied it. Graham crossed the control room to sit down on the stairs; after a moment Ryan followed. Yaz settled in, leaning against a nearby pillar, watching the Doctor and this ‘River’.

Looking up to meet River’s eyes, the Doctor asked, “does this hold any meaning to you?”

River shook her head.

“Alright, let’s get a shift on,” said the Doctor, whirling around to face her companions. “Fam: my wife River Song. Probably.”

“Oi,” said River.

The Doctor continued, “River: Yaz, Ryan, Graham.”

Her companions exchanged glances, before greeting River Song.

“Hiya!” said Yaz.

“Alright?” said Ryan.

“How’re you doin’?” said Graham.

River waved in response, before the Doctor exclaimed: “Change of plans! We need to head to Korbangholarillius II. The Pan-Galactic Mud Pie Competition can wait.”

“But I’ve already got me wellies on!” cried Graham.

“Erm, what’s on Korbay – Korybay – what was it?” asked Ryan, standing up.

“Korh-bang-ghoh-lah-rhill-ee-uhss, the sequel. I have a friend there who can help us analyse this note,” she said, waving the paper in the air.

“Can I see that?” asked Yaz, nodding towards the note.

The Doctor looked at River, asking a silent question. River, tilting her head, gave her consent.

Yaz held the note in both hands; her eyebrows drew together as she turned the paper clockwise, then counterclockwise, trying to make sense of the seemingly random dots, lines, and squiggles. After a moment she asked, “is this some sort of code?”

“Most likely,” River said, nodding.

“So, we need to crack the code, right?” asked Ryan.

“In theory, yes,” the Doctor took the note, looking at it quizzically for a bit before passing it back to River Song, “but if we can find out who wrote it, we might not need to. Could just be somebody’s doodles.”

The Doctor pressed a few buttons on the console, imputing the coordinates. Flicking switches, turning dials, and pulling levers, she piloted the TARDIS through the time vortex, the familiar groan of the engines ringing through the console room before they cut out and a thump indicated that the TARDIS had landed.

“Here we are then, Korbangholarillius II, fifty-third century.” The Doctor opened the doors, peering out, screwing up her face, she said, “might be a good thing you’ve got your wellies on Graham, lovely weather for ducks out here.”

“See, I’m always prepared, I am.”

They assessed the rain, peering through the TARDIS doors around the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Is the rain on this planet safe, Doctor?” asked Yaz.

“Good question! Should be fine,” the Doctor stretched her arm outside the TARDIS doors, sonic screwdriver in hand, “this is a human colony after all.” She checked the sonic’s readings, “uh, actually, maybe we better wait out the storm.” Turning back to face the console room, she exclaimed, “River, what are you doing? We can’t leave, we have to find out who wrote that note you found.”

At the TARDIS console, River fiddled with some switches, movements deliberate and practised, “this is a time ship. I’m just jumping ahead an hour or so.”

“Right, okay,” the Doctor conceded.

“So, what’s wrong with the rain then, Doc?” asked Graham.

“Toxic. High counts of gamma radiation. Bad for anything living. You know the Elephant’s Foot?”

“Yes,” said Graham and Yaz.

“No,” said Ryan.

“Nuclear radiation, Ryan,” said the Doctor.

River looked up from the console, “we’ve jumped ahead about two-and-a-half hours from where we were,” she said, checking the TARDIS monitor, “apparently it’s clear skies out there.”

“Wait, but I didn’t hear the TARDIS engines,” said Yaz, quizzical expression on her face.

“Unlike the Doctor, I know how to fly the TARDIS.”

The Doctor gave River a dirty look.

“Can we go explore, then?” asked Ryan.

“Or try to find your friend, Doctor?” said Yaz.

A quick scan revealed the atmosphere to be safe, so the Doctor gave the go ahead, and shortly the five of them where walking through tall purple grass, triple suns shining on their backs, and not a cloud in the mint-coloured sky. Yaz, Ryan, and Graham left their coats and other cold-weather accoutrements in the TARDIS, as it was too warm to wear them, but the Doctor preferred the comfort of her usual attire and the accessibility of her not-empty, dimensionally ample pockets.

They were headed to the only structure in sight: a tall tower of some sort, more like a lighthouse than a transmission tower – a tower with a definitive _inside._ The Doctor’s curiosity had been piqued, as the tower’s utilitarian design implied it to have been built for a purpose, and what could that purpose be? Here on the Plains of Ferbub, all you could see for miles were purple fields and the occasional myzu: a small rodent-like animal, cousin of Earth’s gopher. To put an unmarked tower all the way out here, well, frankly, it was suspicious.

Speaking of, the Doctor hadn’t seen a myzu yet. And that was suspicious too.

“Hey, Doctor,” said Ryan.

The Doctor turned, squinting in the suns, “yeah?”

“There aren’t snakes on this planet, are there?”

“No. Not here. Or at least there shouldn’t be.”

“Okay, only I’m a bit worried about the tall grass, that maybe we might come across something dangerous we can’t see.”

“No, it’s very safe here.”

“Unless it starts to rain,” said Yaz.

* * *

They reached the tower finally, and standing at the base, they caught their breaths, staring up to the top of the tower they could barely see. 

“It’s very tall,” said Ryan.

“Got’ter be taller than The Shard, right?” replied, Graham.

“Ah, I wouldn’t know,” said Ryan. 

“I’d say so,” said the Doctor, “from my approximations.”

“Where’s the door?” asked River, although she wasn’t really asking.

“Interesting,” breathed the Doctor.

The tower was shaped like some sort of cylindrical polygon; a quick lap around the base of it revealed the sides to be inequilateral. It was a solid grey, the outside of it having no markings that they could see: no door, no windows, no scuff marks – just smooth grey walls stretching up to the sky. Even more suspicious. The Doctor could feel her hearts start to beat just a little bit faster at the prospect of solving this mystery.

“Well, let’s spread out, see if we can find the way in,” the Doctor ordered, “or anything else that we might need to know about: a plaque, a tour guide, a little shop…”

The Doctor strode off purposefully in a north-westerly direction, and Graham hurried after her, as Yaz and Ryan had already paired up.

“Hey Doc?” he called, as he got withing hearing range of her.

She stopped and turned towards him. Graham rushed to catch up, and stopping in front of the Doctor, he asked, “so, what’s the story with her?” gesturing with his head in the direction of River Song.

The Doctor regarded River for a moment, who was crouched in the dirt at the base of the tower.

“It’s complicated.”

“You said she’s your wife,” he said cautiously.

“Yeah,” she said, “we’re both time travellers. We keep meeting in the wrong order.”

Graham hummed, “that must be hard.”

“Yeah,” said the Doctor, one of her eyebrows twitching upwards.

She whirled around, a clear sign that the conversation was over, and scanned the terrain in front of her, sonic screwdriver buzzing in her hand. She checked the reading and frowned, “that’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Asked Graham.

“I should be picking up on some base-level radiation after that rainfall. Perhaps even electricity or radio waves if there’re settlements nearby, but there’s nothing. It’s completely silent. Which means,” she turned to look at Graham, eyes wide, “it’s not silent at all.”

“I’m not following.”

“Either there are too many signals and too much noise and it’s overloading my sonic, or there is a specific signal that they’ve tried to mask, but they accidentally masked everything.” She turned back to appraise the tower. “Either way, it demands investigation,” she concluded, grinning.

“Well, that’s what we’re doing, right Doc?”

“Right you are, Graham.”

Suddenly, they heard Yaz cry out, calling their names. The Doctor glanced at Graham and took off running at high speed; Graham followed slightly slower.

“What’s going on?” yelled the Doctor, as she came up to where Ryan, Yaz, and River were standing on the other side of the tower.

“Ryan tripped over this,” Yaz said, gesturing to what was unmistakeably a lever on the ground, similar to the railroad switches used to change train tracks of old.

“That wasn’t there before,” said the Doctor, “we circled the perimeter and I didn’t see that.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I want to pull it,” said River, as the buzzing of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver swelled.

“Be my guest,” said the Doctor, lowering her sonic, “I’m very excited to see what happens.”

River placed both hands on the lever and pulled as hard as she could, somehow making the action look graceful. There was a scraping noise as the lever shifted, and a clunk as it found it’s resting place, and then… nothing.

“Okay. Bit anticlimactic,” said the Doctor.

But she’d spoken too soon. The ground beneath their feet began to shift and move, making it hard to remain upright, as the sound of scraping metal and crumbling rock filled their ears. The tower began to stretch upwards, becoming even taller than it was before, and shapes began to become clear at the base of the tower: writing, perhaps, not in the Latin alphabet at least, and what was unmistakeably an entrance of some kind.

They stood, squinting in the suns, assessing the tower as it had been transformed.

“Well, that’s progress,” said Graham.

“We just need to figure out how to open that now,” said the Doctor, pointing towards the entrance.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr: @spaceandtimeadventurer


End file.
